Calls You Home
by Sandylee007
Summary: AGE OF ULTRON AFTERMATH, WITH SOMETHING EXTRA… Guilty over Pietro's death, Clint struggles to make use of his new lease in life. But is anything around him as it seems? Will he sink into the depths or will the Hawkeye rise to his wings once more? ONESHOT


A/N: I received a VERY awesome prompt from a VERY dear reader AGES ago. Now I finally ended up making it reality! (grins) I'll reveal the prompt in the closing A/N so I won't make any spoilers.

DISCLAIMER: Are you freaking kidding me?! My flat and my cat, that's what I can afford. And an occasional holiday trip. I'd be bathing in money if I actually owned something…

WARNINGS: Language (sorry Steve!), general weirdness, injury, a hint of blood… WOAH! That's a stunningly short list.

Awkay, because stalling isn't kind and it's getting LATE… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

 _ **Calls You Home**_

* * *

There was a lot of noise and chaos at the end of it. No surprise, really, considering the havoc that just took place. To Clint it was all muffled, just white noise, as he lay on the seat with his eyes closed. All too aware of Pietro's body, which had been placed so close that he might've been able to touch it if he tried.

He was so tired, so exhausted. And the pain ravishing him, now that adrenaline was wearing off… It was unbelievable.

Ridiculous, really. He'd been shot at far more times than he cared to count. How could it still hurt this much?

Oh well. It wouldn't hurt long. Or well, it'd _hurt_ when he woke up again – like hell – but at least he'd get a small break, now. He was actually looking forward to getting a little break.

Obviously someone didn't understand his desire. "Barton!" Steve… Why did Steve sound like that…? It was just a tiny flesh wound, for crying out loud. Why wouldn't the Captain let him sleep for a little bit? "Clint, I know that you're tired. But I need you to open your eyes for me, alright? Stay awake."

Clint would've wanted to apologize. Because he knew that there was no way he'd be able to grant his friend's wish. But he was too far on his way under.

He'd apologize when he'd wake up.

He would've wanted to apologize to Pietro, too.

Too bad it was too late for that.

* * *

He dreamt of Pietro, afterwards. Also not a surprise. He dreamt of the kid's blood coating his hands. Dreamt of those dead, unseeing eyes staring at him. Heard those horrible final words, that nauseating last breath, over and over and over again.

Clint honestly imagined that the nightmare was over when he opened his eyes and woke up.

* * *

A few days afterwards Clint could finally go home. To the farm. To Laura. To their kids. But even as he held his children and his wife something just didn't feel right.

Clint knew what it was. He'd seen a lot of good people get eaten up alive by it. The guilt gnawing at him, from inside out… Carving his soul and bones hollow…

How was it possible that someone so young, someone who'd been on the verge of finding their path, was gone? While he was alive and well? Where was the sense in that?

"That brat…", he murmured as he lay beside Laura one night. His hand rubbed circles on her stomach although he hadn't been able to coax his son into kicking since his return. He blinked furiously, hating how his eyes turned blurry for a moment. "You can't even imagine how much like me he was! Maybe I could've…" He swallowed, the thought becoming more than he could handle at the moment. "The idiot decided to try and play a hero."

"Like someone else I know", Laura quipped, tightening her hold on him as though she was afraid that he'd disappear.

Clint sighed and pressed a kiss to her hair. "I just… I keep seeing it. I keep wondering…" He trailed off. He didn't have the words for such an admission. Nor could he have ever spoken them in front of his wife.

He hadn't realized that they'd lapsed into a silence until Laura pressed a firm, almost desperate kiss to his lips. Her hold on him tightened still. "Come back to me", she whispered in the kind of a voice he'd never heard before.

Clint chuckled and looked at her. Confusion must've shown in his gaze. "Hey." He ran a tender hand down her cheek when she refused to look at him. "I'm right here."

Laura's eyes were full of sadness when they eventually found his. She shook her head. "No, you're not."

* * *

The dreams of Pietro continued. Became even more frequent, far more vivid. Enough so to keep haunting Clint even when he was awake.

In one of the most common dreams – or perhaps rather nightmares – they were stood of top of a cliff. Pietro was less than ten steps away but Clint couldn't bring himself to break the distance, no matter how much he would've wanted to. They stared at each other, and the entire time Pietro's lips kept moving with words that the brutal wind wiped away.

So close yet worlds apart.

"What do you want?" Clint screamed when the helplessness and irritation became too much. Howled the words to the wind. "What do you want from me?" he shouted again, even louder. He told himself that the tears in his eyes were caused by the wind. "I'm sorry, is that what you want to hear? Because I am! I'M SORRY!"

The imaginary Pietro wasn't satisfied. Something he could've never imagined on the youths face appeared to those eyes. Despair. Grief. The boy kept talking even more fervently but Clint still couldn't hear or understand a word.

And then a particularly brutal slap of the wind wiped Pietro away, like the young man had been nothing but ashes or dust.

* * *

Natasha noticed, of course.

They were on their way back from a mission when she finally addressed the topic. "I know that look. Whatever it is on your mind… Spill."

Clint hesitated. He knew that she was still pained by Bruce's departure. Having someone else's relationship problems poured on her…

The archer sighed and leaned his head heavily against the jet's wall. His eyelids drooped and every single muscle in his body ached. "Laura and I… I think we've hit a rough patch." He gritted his teeth in frustration. "My fault, really. I… haven't felt… like myself, lately." He had a feeling that he didn't need to clarify. "It's like I'm stuck on a loop. Into that moment when…" He trailed off. Because all of a sudden he could've sworn that Pietro was right there, before him. Watching. Speaking those inaudible words from his dreams.

So he was officially losing it, then…

Natasha's swat to his head brought him back to awareness. Gentle cognitive recalibration this time. "Stop being a moron. Don't let this cost you the most important and valuable thing you've ever had, Barton. Go home."

Clint looked at his friend. Something strange tingled underneath his skin, only to disappear a few seconds later. "And that's it?"

Natasha nodded. There were fierce determination and uncharacteristic softness in her eyes. "Yeah, Clint. Go home."

* * *

Two days later Clint indeed went back home once more. This time truly, body, heart and soul. Tears streamed down Laura's face while she folded him to a firm, almost suffocating embrace.

"I'm home", Clint whispered to her ear. More times than he could count. He closed his eyes, feeling drained in a way he couldn't explain. "I'm home."

* * *

The nightmares didn't magically end there, of course. Pietro kept visiting him almost every single night. Sometimes watching. Other times trying to tell him something that went past his ears.

One night a particularly chilling imagery caught Clint off guard. This time there wasn't a cliff. Instead he was sinking, down, down, down, into the depths of pitch black water. It was so cold that he could barely comprehend it. He wasn't scared or confused, just… numb.

And Pietro was right there sinking with him. Lips moving constantly. And this time Clint understood one word. It echoed in his ears like a thunder. " _…PLEASE…!_ "

Clint woke up to his own scream, a sheen of cold sweat lingering on his skin although he didn't have the slightest clue what really caused it.

* * *

Perhaps the dream was a warning.

Because less than three months later Clint nearly drowned. He lost his perch, tumbling a horrifying fall into the depths of murky, freezing cold waves. He didn't have even the slightest clue how long he'd spent there until a sudden, violent force was dragging him towards the surface.

Clint was so dazed that he barely recognized Tony's face after the billionaire had hauled them both to a solid ground. They were panting, buzzing with adrenaline and wide eyed. "Thanks", Clint managed. "I owe… you one."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Damn right you do, Tweetie." The inventor poked at his chest roughly with one finger. "Don't you _dare_ do that _ever_ again, Feathers. Or I'll pluck you. Understood? Don't you dare die on us!"

Clint drifted away from everything, there, his final coherent thought being a wish that Tony might forgive him.

* * *

To his stun Clint didn't wake up in a hospital. Or even at the Tower. Instead he found himself from the infamous scene where Pietro lost his life. His whole body turned cold.

 _Shit…!_

Then Wanda stood before him. Now it was all starting to make sense. Had she been messing with his head? Was this some sort of a revenge?

Clint swallowed thickly. He hadn't even registered getting up but somehow he was already standing. "Look, I'm… I'm so sorry…!"

Wanda shook her head. There was no accusation in her eyes. "Listen to me very carefully right now. You have to wake up. The team needs you to. My brother needs you too."

For a second, perhaps two, Clint stared. Maybe he wasn't the only one losing his mind. The thought was oddly comforting. "Wanda…", he murmured as gently as possible. "Pietro… He's dead. Remember?" _Because he saved me. Because for some stupid reason…_

Wanda, however, shook her head. There was something strange in her eyes. "No, he isn't. But… You almost are. And… That's why they asked me to help. That's why I offered to help."

She didn't wait for his permission. Before he had the chance to realize what was happening her hands were pressed against his head. And then the memory clip began, as though he'd been watching a movie.

* * *

/ _Like through someone else's eyes Clint watched himself noticing how Pietro rushed to cover the little boy's body with his own. Observed how he dashed forward, pushing the two out of the way. Bullets flew. As did blood when several of them hit the mark._

 _Clint met Pietro's amusingly shocked, wide eyes with a tiny, dazed smile. The archer's whole body swayed. "Bet… you didn't see… that one coming." He fell, into darkness, away from everything._ /

* * *

A tear, just one, rolled down Wanda's cheek. Shone like a crystal. "You saved me brother's life. And I thank you for that." She took his hand and squeezed, offering to guide him. "Now let me take you back home. Open your eyes."

* * *

Clint indeed opened his eyes. So easily that it truly surprised him. Pietro and Wanda were looking at him. He sensed that the rest of the team wasn't far. And for the first time in forever he felt like he was…

"Home?" he rasped in a absolutely pathetic, wheezing voice.

"You took your time, old man", Pietro noted. The boy looked like he hadn't slept in ages. The relief wasn't as well hidden as it should've been. "About time you wake up."

Clint smirked. He fought with all his might not to go right back to sleep when it felt like he'd been slumbering for ages already. "Roadrunner", he rasped.

Pietro's eyes flashed with mirth and something far more profound. He was almost sure that he felt a hand squeezing his but must've imagined it. "Pigeon."

They weren't exactly teammates yet. Let alone friends. But maybe now, with this second chance… They might get the chance to be.

Finally they were both home.

* * *

 ** _-O-_**

* * *

IN CASE ANYONE'S CONFUSED… Clint was in a come. What he experienced was his friends calling him back.

A/N: Heh, I could no longer resist the temptation to try and give Pietro a happy ending. And if it gave me the chance for Clint-whump? Heck yeah! (grins)

A while ago I received a prompt to make a Clint coma-fic. With Pietro waiting for him to wake up. How was I supposed to resist it?!

Ya know, the story is sealed for now but… I wonder how it'd look with a one more chapter, from Pietro's POV. Do you have thoughts, comments? PLEASE, do feed the insatiably hungry box down below before you go!

In any case, a million thank yous for the reading! Who knows. Maybe I'll see you again?

Take care!


End file.
